


it was just for us

by labeledbones



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 13:11:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13272123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labeledbones/pseuds/labeledbones
Summary: On the couch, Timmy tucks his feet under Armie’s warm thighs and reaches for the container of lo mein on the coffee table.Just adding some Armie/Timmy blizzard snuggle fluff to the pile. :) :) :)





	it was just for us

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to thank @God for the real life 'Armie and Timmy get snowed in together' fic prompt. And also apologize if this is riddled with typos as my cat really wants me to go to bed and stop proofreading, so blame him.

The windows in Timmy’s living room groan as another gust of wind rushes past the building. The metal frames sound like they’re going to give way any second. Cold air seeps in through any crack it can find. The radiator groans and clanks uselessly in the corner, wheezes like a dying animal.

On the couch, Timmy tucks his feet under Armie’s warm thighs and reaches for the container of lo mein on the coffee table. Armie adjusts the blanket they’re sharing so it covers Timmy more than it covers him, some paternal instinct kicking in even though he himself is freezing. In response, Timmy settles back deeper into the couch, obnoxiously slurping up a noodle, grinning when he catches Armie watching him. It’s the first time all day Timmy hasn’t seemed on edge, anxious, hasn’t been glued to his phone, and Armie is grateful for that. 

“Just put anything on,” Timmy says as Armie scrolls absently through Netflix. “I don’t really want to have to think right now.” 

Armie settles on a random documentary and turns the volume down so that it’s mostly just white noise. “Yeah?” he says, looking over at Timmy for approval.

Timmy nods and wriggles his toes under Armie’s thighs. 

“Stop that,” Armie says, laughing. 

Timmy does it again, lips pursed trying to bite back his own laughter. His toes settle down and he holds the takeout container out towards Armie. “Want the rest of this?” 

Armie thinks they’ve eaten enough Chinese food to keep them full for at least the next three days, but he nods anyway, reaches to take the container from Timmy. But Timmy pulls it back, shaking his head. “Let me,” he says. 

Armie tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at Timmy. “What? You want to feed it to me?” 

Timmy snaps his chopsticks together in Armie’s direction. “Maybe?” His voice is oddly earnest, like he’s confessing something by asking Armie if he can feed him lukewarm lo mein. 

“Okay,” Armie says, shaking his head. “Weirdo.” 

Timmy sits up eagerly, lifting the chopsticks to Armie’s mouth. Armie watches the way Timmy’s eyes lock onto his lips as he takes the noodles into his mouth, the way he watches Armie’s throat as he swallows. Timmy touches the tips of the now empty chopsticks to Armie’s bottom lip, pinching his lip between them for a second, before pulling them away, his eyes a little glazed over. 

Armie licks his lips, tasting the left behind salty grease. “Was that good for you?” he asks. 

Timmy settles happily back in his spot on the couch and just nods.

Armie rolls his eyes but looks at Timmy steadily. “Come back over here,” he says quietly.

Timmy sits forward again and kisses Armie before Armie even has the chance to kiss him. They kiss slowly, lingeringly, nowhere to be, no one waiting on them. The wind howls outside, the cold trying to fight the warmth they’re creating between them. The TV murmurs low under the sound of their mouths meeting and parting and meeting again. 

Timmy gasps when Armie’s hands find their way under the blanket, under Timmy’s sweatshirt. “Cold hands,” he says. “Cold, cold hands.” 

Armie laughs, mutters a sincere apology, but doesn’t move his fingers from Timmy’s hips, moving up to his ribcage, to his chest. 

“Okay, warming up,” Timmy says into Armie’s mouth, still laughing a little. His own hands are on Armie’s jaw, thumbs tracing along both sides and then digging into the soft skin underneath. 

Armie stops, sits back, despite Timmy’s protesting groan and the enticing tug he gives to the back of Armie’s hair. 

“I didn’t think we’d have time for this,” he says, looking at Timmy’s face, taking in his swollen lips, disheveled hair. “It’s been so long,” he adds, his voice going embarrassingly wistful to the point of breaking. 

“So why did you stop us?” Timmy teases, his thumb pressing into the dip between Armie’s collarbones. He tilts his head back to get Armie to kiss him again and Armie does, just once. 

“We’ve got all night,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. 

Timmy shoves him, one corner of his mouth twisting up into a smile. “Fucker,” he mutters as he stands up, gathering the empty takeout containers and taking them out to the kitchen. 

Armie stays there on the couch, looking at the TV, but not watching it. He thinks about Timmy, misses him even though he’s been gone for ten seconds, even though he can hear him in the other room. He thinks about the month without him, how there were days when he honestly didn’t think about him, but then there were days when all he did was think about him. He thinks about how he never realizes how incomplete he is until Timmy’s attached to his side again and things just make sense. He thinks about how he was supposed to be back in LA by now, but the universe brought him back here, back to Timmy instead.

He realizes it’s been quiet in the kitchen for a while and when he goes to investigate, he finds Timmy leaning against the counter and chewing anxiously on his thumbnail as he looks at his phone. “Hey,” he says quietly, walking over to Timmy and wrapping his arms around his small waist. “We can worry about that tomorrow.” He presses a kiss to Timmy’s throat. 

Timmy sighs, puts his phone down on the counter, drops his head against Armie’s chest. “I just don’t want to screw this up,” he says. 

Armie puts a hand on either side of Timmy’s head and brings it back up, forcing him to meet Armie’s eyes. “Well, you can’t control the weather or the airlines, can you?” 

Timmy shakes his head, closes his eyes. Armie stops the tear coming out of his right eye with the pad of his thumb. He watches Timmy take a breath before he opens his eyes again. “You’re right,” he says. “Whatever happens, happens.” 

Armie smiles at him, kisses him, and then asks, the thought just occurring to him, “Have we never said ‘I love you’ to each other?” 

Timmy laughs. “What?” 

“I’m serious,” Armie says. “I don’t think we’ve ever actually said it in words, out loud, not in a ‘love you brother’ way.” 

Timmy’s thumbs hook into the belt loops of Armie’s jeans and pull a little. “Sure we have,” he says, brow furrowing. 

“See, you can’t remember,” Armie says. 

Timmy gives Armie’s belt loops another firm tug, knocking their hips together. “I fucking love you,” he says, gritting his teeth a little. 

Armie grins, “I fucking love you, too.” 

Timmy’s phone starts to buzz, but they keep standing there, in the kitchen, arms around each other, heads bent together. 

Later, when they are both naked and sweat-covered under Timmy’s comforter, their skin flushed and finally warm, Timmy looks at Armie and says, “I’m sorry you came all the way out here just to watch me get an award and then get stranded.” 

Armie reaches out and pulls gently on one of Timmy’s curls turned wild from sex and says, “I can think of worse places to be stranded.” 

His hand moves to Timmy’s cheek and he watches Timmy’s face as he struggles between making another joke of it and being sincere. Finally, Timmy says, “I’m really fucking glad you’re here. I don’t even care if we miss the Globes.” 

“We won’t miss them,” Armie assures him even though he’s not at all sure how it’ll work out. “It’s important to you, I know.” 

Timmy is shaking his head, hooking his legs into Armie’s to get closer. “No,” he says. “This is important to me.” And then, after a beat, he laughs and concedes, “Okay, yeah, making it to the Golden Globes is important to me, too.” 

Armie presses a kiss to the corner of his smiling mouth. “You’ll get there,” he says. 

Timmy twists his legs more tightly with Armie’s. “ _We’ll_ get there.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from big time Armie/Timmy jam ["Just For Us" by Francis and the Lights](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ETYQ9vMXWNU).


End file.
